And A Partridge In A Pear Tree
by Omegalomaniac
Summary: On the first day of Christmas, Sherlock gave to John...


**A/N:** Obligatory Christmas fic?

**Disclaimer:** Obviously I own everything because I'm both Arthur Conan Doyle reincarnated and the secret lovechild of the Moff and Godtiss. ...or not.

* * *

_And A Partridge In A Pear Tree_

On the first day of Christmas, Sherlock gave to John a new coat (a knee-length leather one, obviously not as dramatic as Sherlock's). He had realised a day late that the Christmas tree sitting in the corner of 221B Baker Street was actually there for a reason and that the scarf that he had received the day before from John hadn't been bought on a whim. When John had looked surprised upon actually being given a present in return, Sherlock explained it away by saying that it would be incredibly detrimental to his work if John ended up getting pneumonia whilst running around London at night. After all, he didn't give Christmas presents.

On the second day of Christmas, Lestrade gave to Sherlock a case involving a woman who had been killed by mistletoe. Sherlock viewed this as a proper Christmas present, unlike the rest of the incredibly grumpy policemen (and women) who were slouching around the penthouse apartment in which the poisoned corpse lay – they were simply annoyed at the murderer for causing them to lose part of their Christmas holidays. John wore his new coat to the crime scene, which secretly pleased Sherlock, though of course he didn't say anything.

On the third day of Christmas, Sherlock gave to Lestrade the conclusion to his case – the woman had been killed by her ex-boyfriend, whom she had broken up with two years previously on Christmas Day. Obviously. Lestrade did not ask Sherlock to explain further, he simply asked him to write it all down and to hand it in later. Sherlock was disappointed at not being given the chance to spin around and insult the intelligence of everyone around him. (He told John in the cab back to Baker Street anyway.)

On the fourth day of Christmas, Mycroft gave to John (and, by extension, Sherlock) a sofa, along with a note of apology for it being a few days late, for he had been out of the country due to (minor) government matters that could not possibly wait. John did not ask how Mycroft knew about the unfortunate incident with the blowtorch and their old sofa that had happened on Christmas Eve. Sherlock also received a new pair of gloves, which he promptly threw into a corner of the room with a look of disdain.

On the fifth day of Christmas, Sherlock gave to Mycroft a catering-sized box of mince pies. John had convinced him to actually buy Mycroft a "useful" present in return, though he hadn't exactly specified what this present should be beyond that one word. Sherlock knew that his present would certainly get used and so was satisfied that it fit within the boundaries of John's specification. John was not amused. Neither was Mycroft. (Though he did eat the mince pies.)

On the sixth day of Christmas, Lestrade gave to Sherlock and John an invitation to the New Scotland Yard New Years Party. Sherlock refused to go, much to the relief of many of those present, and spent the whole night sulking on the new sofa, ignoring the loud and seemingly never-ending firework displays which didn't even stop when he yelled out of the window for everyone to shut up, until John returned in the morning.

On the seventh day of Christmas, Sherlock gave to John a mixture of chemicals that he claimed was his cure for a hangover. John took one sniff of it and threw a pillow at Sherlock, grumpily accusing him of trying to kill him. Sherlock certainly did not pout at this rejection of his work and it was not at all a petty revenge that he didn't bother to even attempt to clean up the mess that he had made of the kitchen. He did, however, throw the gloves that Mycroft had given him into the bin, if they were even fit to be called gloves anymore – in the absence of anything else to protect his hands, Sherlock had donned them whilst making his "hangover cure". They hadn't fared well.

On the eighth day of Christmas, Mrs Hudson gave to Sherlock his skull back after having confiscated it for two weeks. (Actually, Sherlock broke into her flat and took it back from where she had shoved it at the back of her (locked) wardrobe underneath a pile of black bin bags, though that wasn't what he told John.)

On the ninth day of Christmas, John gave to Sherlock an ultimatum on the state of the kitchen: if it wasn't clear by the end of the day, John was taking his violin to the tip, no matter how expensive it may be. Sherlock sniffed at him and sat watching TV all day. It wasn't until John actually picked up the violin and walked out of the door that Sherlock hurriedly threw everything dangerous into several carrier bags and ran after him.

On the tenth day of Christmas, John gave to Sarah an invitation to dinner at 221B Baker Street. He asked Sherlock to, please stay out of the way on that evening because, once in a while, he did actually want some time alone with someone. Sherlock replied that John was often alone with him. People other than Sherlock, John clarified. Sherlock "hmm"ed and asked what fun there was in spending time with boring people.

On the eleventh day of Christmas, Molly gave to Sherlock ten severed toes from the latest corpse to grace the morgue at St Barts. Strictly speaking, she shouldn't have given them to him but Sherlock did compliment her new perfume and, well, it wasn't as if anyone was going to check at the funeral, were they?

On the twelfth day of Christmas, John gave to Sarah an apology for not being able to cook her dinner because there were what appeared to be roasted toes in every single kitchen appliance. They went out and got Indian takeaway instead, Sherlock tagging along like a territorial cat and abruptly ending the failed date when he revealed the takeaway to be the secret headquarters of a drug cartel. After contemplating his chances of actually having a successful date with someone whilst living with Sherlock, John surmised that it probably wasn't possible. Sherlock disagreed, somehow deducing John's thoughts even though he hadn't spoken of them at all, and said that John and he had plenty of dates. John said that, no, those weren't dates, he's explained this before, dates are when two people who are interested with each other go out. Sherlock frowned, said that he was interesting and, oh look, it was snowing.


End file.
